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THE TORONTO STAR

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS: THE NEXT GREAT CANADIAN STRIP

Presented by Torstar Syndication Services & thestar.com

Deadline: January 15 | Open to: All Canadian Residents (18+)

Are you an undiscovered visual voice with a sharp eye for Canadian life? Can you capture the absurdity, the heart, and the humor of our coast-to-coast reality in just three panels?

The Toronto Star is launching a nationwide talent search to find The Next Great Canadian Strip. We aren’t looking for traditional superhero tropes or recycled gags. We are looking for a fresh, modern perspective that reflects the progressive, diverse, and inherently unique fabric of Canada today. Whether your lens is political satire, cultural commentary, or daily Canadian life, we want to see it.

The winning comic strip will secure a major platform to launch their creative career, reaching a national audience of over 7 million digital readers monthly, alongside publication in Canada's largest metropolitan daily print edition.

THE PRIZE

• A One-Year Developmental Syndication Contract with Torstar Syndication Services.

• Guaranteed National Publication: The winning strip will run twice a week for one full year (totaling a 100-strip contract) on thestar.com, our mobile apps, and within the physical Toronto Star print edition.

• Industry Mentorship: A series of one-on-one workshop sessions with the Star's award-winning editorial cartoonists and features team.

SUBMISSION REQUIREMENTS

Entrants must submit an original pitch package containing:

1. A Concept Synopsis (Max 250 words): Introduce your characters, your setting, and the core theme of your strip.

2. Three (3) Finished Sample Strips: Camera-ready, horizontal three-to-four panel formats, or single-panel satirical formats. Strips must demonstrate a distinct artistic style and clear comedic or narrative timing.

3. A Brief Artist Bio: Tell us who you are and why you draw. (Note: Formal art school degrees are not required. We welcome raw, authentic, undiscovered Canadian talent).

The Toronto Star is committed to diverse representation. We strongly encourage submissions from marginalized communities, LGBTQ2S+ artists, Indigenous creators, and new voices across all ten provinces and territories.

To submit your digital portfolio or read the full contest bylaws, visit: www.thestar.com/nextgreatstrip

January 12, 2023

Luca Haas had read the Toronto Star advertisement so many times he could recite it in his sleep both in English and German and possibly backwards. For the past month, the call for submissions for The Next Great Canadian Strip had lived rent-free in his brain, popping up like an overeager pop-up ad every time he so much as glanced at his sketchbook. He kept the clipping saved on his phone, screenshot number 47 in a folder labeled “Very Important Do Not Delete.” This was it, he thought every single morning while eating his oatmeal. He knew the chances of winning were slim, but he assumed that if you didn't try, you didn't get to drink champagne. He was, after all, a professional athlete, being competitive was his nature. It was his big chance. National audience, an amateur turning into something more serious. No more hiding stuff in the drawers like it’s embarrassing fan art. It wasn’t embarrassing. He’d come a long way from the kid who apologized for doodling in the margins of his schoolbooks. His teammates howled with laughter at the little comics he dashed off on road trips. His family back in Switzerland asked for new drawings every video call. It took him a while, but he eventually began to believe in his artistic abilities. And yeah, okay, he had designed a tattoo for one of the most famous hockey players on the planet and the guy had actually had it tattooed on his body. That had to count for something. Also The Toronto Star was somehow a perfect place to kick start his artistic career. As an elite player navigating a traditionally rigid sports culture, drawing was his quiet rebellion. The Star’s legendary progressive stance offered a fearless, safe canvas for his social commentary and inclusive humor. Landing a syndicated spot on thestar.com meant his comic strip would bypass stuffy gatekeepers, broadcasting his authentic voice directly to millions of open-minded Canadians nationwide.

The only problem was that for the first time in ages, Luca's mind was completely blank. For the past month, he searched unsuccessfully for inspiration in his old art books. He browsed through comics and albums by his favorite artists. He skimmed through the most popular comic strips from around the world. Nothing helped. The lightbulb above his head remained unlit. And here he was, three days until the January 15 deadline and Luca’s brain was drier than Sahara desert. He sat alone in his apartment, surrounded by a battlefield of crumpled paper balls. They rolled across the floor like tiny, defeated snowballs every time he moved. His pencil was chewed to a stub. His tablet stylus had been thrown across the room twice. “Nothing,” he muttered, glaring at a fresh sheet. “Absolutely nothing. Come on, brain. You score highlight-reel goals in front of twenty thousand people. You can draw three panels.” But his artist block had no mercy.

His phone pinged. Luca almost didn’t check it. Probably another teammate sending a meme about last night’s game. But he glanced anyway. Harris had posted a late summer throwback on Instagram. It was a golden hour photo of Troy and their dog Chiron playing in the apple orchard. Troy was wearing one of those ridiculously fluffy sweaters he loved. He was actually laughing (still a rare sight) while Chiron leapt for a bright red apple-shaped toy. The dog’s tongue was out, ears flopping. It was a picture of pure playfulness and joy. Luca grunted happily. He double-tapped the heart, then added a row of apple and heart emojis in the comments section feeling like an absolute sap. Without thinking, he grabbed a fresh sheet and started sketching in his usual superhero style. Chiron mid-leap, apple toy bouncing off his nose. Troy with his arms out, getting ready for some cuddles. Then another quick one- the same pair on the ice, Troy in full hockey gear with Chiron next to him looking like an oddly shaped black hole with apple toy lying on top of his head.

Luca stared at the two drawings. They were loose, silly, and alive. “Oh,” he whispered. “Oh my god.” He finally realized his frustrating disability to draw has passed. He has drawn something, it made him happy and he also liked it. He laughed out loud in his empty apartment and immediately opened Harris’s profile for more photos, then Troy’s. Troy wasn’t very active online. Privacy was still very important to him. Luca respected it and understood Troy's reasons, even if it made research harder. He leaned back in his chair, tapping his pencil against his lip as memories flooded in.

Troy on the ice was an absolute menace. Confident, fearless, even rude and willing to drop gloves with anyone who deserved it. Troy off the ice was a totally different case. Everyday Troy was mostly quiet, introverted and pretty peculiar. He was definitely eating way too much salmon, training harder than others, enjoying soft clothes, being supportive of his teammates while being the biggest sweetheart once you got past the resting bitch face. Troy would kill him if he knew Luca’s thoughts.

The way Chiron lit up around him was special. Harris may have been the personification of the sun, but for this shaggy dog, Troy was the true god. Troy, who ran several miles with Chiron every day, who spoiled him rotten with treats after visits to the vet, who always found time for his four-legged friend no matter how tired or busy he was. Luca also assumed that Chiron, a nearly certified therapy dog, was sensitive to any changes in Troy's behavior and always ready to soothe him. The poor dog was always at work, but he loved his job completely, and the feeling was mutual.

Luca shook his head in good humor as he thought of Ilya and Troy rocking out at the nightclub. In those moments, the stoic facade fell away, and Troy transformed into that cheeky bastard from the ice rink. Together, he and Ilya were unstoppable.

Troy was also incredibly pretty- definitely not Troy's favorite adjective but he was a nice subject to draw for an artist. Despite being a man of few words he often looked like he was evaluating the situation, looking judgingly at others, and sometime sharing his sarcastic remarks of the state of affairs, always so painfully on point.

Luca’s eyes widened. “Troy Barrett,” he said to his empty living room, “you’re an ultimate tsundere.” He started laughing again, harder this time, nearly falling off his chair.

Tsundere on Ice

A sarcastic hockey player with a heart of gold and his massive, always-hungry dog reacting to everyday Canadian absurdity. It was perfect. Cute but sharp and relatable. And most importantly, it felt like him.

If he won, and the competitive part of Luca’s brain that scored twenty goals as a rookie dared to dream, he needed to stay anonymous. He was a public figure on a team that was simultaneously beloved and hated for having three openly queer players. The last thing he wanted was to drag Troy or Harris, or Chiron into any drama. Harris would actually murder him and Troy would help hide the body. Troy hated being the center of attention. Besides, Luca only planned to make small harmless jokes at his expense in his drawings. A little inspiration like that doesn't require consent, right? Right?

His usual superhero comic style was out. The Centaurs would recognize it instantly. So if Troy was Tsundere maybe manga approach was a good idea. Luca pulled out his favorite manga art books in search for specific aesthetic. Chibi style seemed to fit his idea perfectly. Easy enough to draw efficiently and fast. With his busy hockey schedule he had to be able to draw 100 strips in a year.

He printed reference sheets of chibi faces and poses, and got to work. Chibi Troy came together almost immediately- spiky hair with a permanent little scowl, big expressive eyes and hockey jersey. He was simply adorable. Chiron was harder. Regular chibi dogs felt too generic. Then Luca remembered the time after Chiron’s vet visit when Troy had called the dog a “black hole” while feeding him an entire bag of treats. He drew a ridiculously fluffy black blob with thick legs, shining eyes, and an apple toy balanced on his head like a crown. “Fuck yes,” Luca whispered. “You’re perfect.” He spent the next several hours in a happy frenzy. Black-and-white chibi style with one pop of color- the red apple toy with a green leaf. He created many quick sketches to remember all his ideas. Finally he drew the pair on a tiny round ice rink under the title Tsundere on Ice.

He scanned everything into his laptop. Now the real hard work was about to begin. He created required comic strips using .AI template file provided by Toronto Star.

Strip 1- pride month with apple toy not in traditional red but in rainbow colors;

Strip 2- high prices for 1 kg of salmon and chibis making funny exaggerated faces;

Strip 3- explanation why Canada’s economy was related to the sharpness of hockey player’s skate blades.

They were cute and funny. They made Luca very proud. But the dark little voice in his head whispered that it was too close to real life. So he opened his files, made copies, and went full disguise mode. The apple became a lemon. Chiron became Blob- the black hole dog who eats everything. Troy became simply Tsundere, a grumpy-yet-lovable hockey player. Luca changed the 17 on his jersey to 95- year of Troy's birth. That would do! Luca did a little happy dance in his office chair. Month of brutal artist block and constant worry of the deadline resolved in one evening thanks to Harris’ cute insta post. Luca had to remember to get that guy his favorite pumping spice latte. All it was to do was to fill in the required form and send the email.

Now for the submission requirements.

Concept Synopsis: Tsundere on Ice follows a perpetually scowling but secretly soft-hearted hockey player and his enormous, food-obsessed dog as they navigate the everyday chaos of Canadian life. Set against the backdrop of snowy rinks, overpriced grocery stores, polite road rage, and national pride events, the strip blends gentle satire with warm found-family humor. Tsundere grumbles his way through everyday absurdities while Blob provides enthusiastic (and often destructive) commentary via pure dog energy. At its core, the comic celebrates the idea that people (and dogs) are rarely just one thing- the toughest guys on the ice can wear fluffy sweaters at home, and even the grumpiest hearts can melt for the ones they love. Light-hearted, queer-friendly, and unapologetically Canadian.

Artist Bio: My name is Luca Haas, pseudonym Lemon. I’m a self-taught artist from Switzerland living in Ottawa who draws because it keeps me sane between hockey games. I’ve never been to art school, but I’ve been doodling since I was old enough to hold a pencil. Currently, I attend painting classes as a hobby. My style is influenced by everything from Saturday morning cartoons to Japanese manga to classic works. I want to submit under a pseudonym because my day job is very public and I’d like to keep my two worlds separate for now. If Tsundere on Ice gets picked, I’ll be over the moon to work with the Star’s team while staying respectfully anonymous. Canada has given me so much (the job I dreamed of and new friends who are like family to me), I’d love the chance to give some funny little drawings back.

Luca read everything three times, checked the file names (all renamed in accordance with the regulations), attached the samples and filled forms, and opened his email. His finger hovered over the send button. He thought about the crumpled papers, the month of panic, Harris’s perfect Instagram post, and the ridiculous lemon toy now starring in his comic. A huge, goofy smile spread across his face.

He pressed send.